


Unlike All Others

by Morgana



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-24
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-19 08:58:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3604188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgana/pseuds/Morgana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Omegas are offered up for Bonding once a year. They don’t get a say in it - it’s compulsory, and most of them are quite happy with it, since it means they’ll get a chance to have Alphas compete for their favor, get into bidding wars over them, and in the end they’ll come out of it with a home and family. Most Omegas want that, the security of someone to take care of them, someone they can take care of in return. But Stiles Stilinski isn’t most Omegas</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

When Stiles came home from his first Bonding at seventeen still wearing his gold tags, his dad wasn’t really all that worried about it. A lot of Omegas weren’t claimed their first time out but that didn’t necessarily mean they hadn’t caught an Alpha’s eye, just that their Alpha might think they could use a little more time to mature before they stepped up to the table and made their offer. Anyone who spent more than five minutes talking to Stiles certainly couldn’t be blamed for coming to a similar conclusion. He took Stiles out for pizza and reminded him of how he’d waited two years to claim Anne, although he didn’t tell him about how those two years had been almost as hard on him as they had her. Maybe he should have, if only to let Stiles know that Alphas weren’t immune to the nerves that beset Omegas at the Bonding, but when Stiles just shrugged and changed the subject to his car’s new transmission, Jeff was too relieved at the new topic to look beyond it.

Stiles’ second Bonding was much the same as the first - he put on the new suit Jeff bought him, along with the formal collar and went down to the Marriott, but he came home without an offer, just like the year before. He didn’t seem that upset about it, so his father thought that maybe he’d talked to someone and come to an understanding. That was what he’d done in Anne’s second year, when he was sure she was the one he wanted but knew he needed to finish his studies at the academy so he could offer her the home she deserved. She’d been just as glad to have an extra year to get ready, and she’d told him later that she’d used the time to perfect her apple brown betty, the one that he ate three helpings of every time she made it.

But Stiles didn’t start baking or working on any new skills, and when he came home from his third Bonding without so much as the mention of an offer, Jeff started to worry. Had he somehow given Stiles the impression that he shouldn’t be looking? Or was Stiles concerned about what might happen to him once Stiles was claimed and he was on his own? In order to show his son just how capable he was of taking care of himself, Jeff started eating more meals at home, meals that he cooked himself, some of which even contained the vegetables Stiles was always nagging at him to eat. He told Stiles about his Bonding with Anne, about how it was natural to have concerns, but that it really could be as good as TV and the movies made it look. Better, even, without the unnecessary drama that only happened in pre-scripted works.

Stiles bore the talks and meals with something approaching tolerant amusement, and when Jeff dropped him off for his fourth Bonding, he was sure that this time someone would see just what a prize catch his son was. But just like the other years, Stiles came home on the shuttle, gold tags and heart intact, gesturing wildly as he told his father about how his best friend had claimed his pretty little Beta instead of one of the many Omegas that were drooling over him. Jeff listened, nodded and clapped Stiles on the shoulder, then left a few pamphlets on his son’s bed the next day. Not that he thought Stiles really _needed_ any help, but there were some good schools nearby that had pretty good Omega programs, and Stiles was going to be graduating from college soon, so it never hurt to look at some other options.

By the time Stiles’ fifth Bonding rolled around, Jeff suggested that maybe they should look for Stiles a place of his own. It was as close as he could come to telling Stiles that he might end up an unclaimed Omega. Thankfully Stiles didn’t seem too upset at that thought - if anything, he was eager to have his own place, and soon enough, they got him settled in a brand new single Omega development. Every single one of his friends came over to help him move, and once the furniture was put together and the boxes unpacked, Jeff hugged his son and told him yet again that he thought this was a good move. He headed home in a better mood than he’d been in some time. Maybe with his own home to care for, Stiles would truly blossom.

And if he didn’t, at least he had his own place instead of having to rely on anyone else. And Jeff could start eating real bacon again instead of that turkey crap.

*****

Stiles let himself into his apartment and headed for the kitchen, dropping keys, jacket, and backpack off along the way. He’d skipped lunch in order to work on his paper for Technological Forensic Science and Practical Application and he was _starving_. Unfortunately, the fridge didn’t have much to offer except for the half-empty cartons of last night’s Szechuan beef and chicken with broccoli. Still, it was food, and if he was hungry once he was finished with it, he could always see if Isaac had done any baking today. That was one of the real perks of living in an Omega complex - he could almost always count on a neighbor to feed him.

He popped the containers in the microwave and turned it on, then wandered into the living room to flop down on the couch and watch TV while he waited for his food to heat. Unfortunately, he only had a few minutes to himself before his phone went off and Scott’s big grin filled the screen. “Yo, Scotty, what’s up?”

“I was just calling to see if you wanted to come over to our place for dinner. You know, afterwards.”

Stiles frowned and opened his mouth to ask what the hell that meant when he caught sight of the calendar. _Fuck_. He’d forgotten all about the stupid Bonding, although he didn’t think that would really be an officially approved excuse for being late - or better yet, missing it altogether. “Yeah, that sounds great,” he said, trying to act like his whole night hadn’t just gone straight to hell. “I don’t suppose Allison just happened to make that awesome lasagna of hers?”

“Actually, she did,” Scott said, his voice going all dopey just like it did every time Allison cooked or kicked his ass at Minecraft or came within three feet of him. Or existed. Stiles might think Bonding was a pain in the ass, but even he had to admit that Scott and Allison had something special. “She said she thought you might need some comfort food.”

“Tell her I said thanks.” It was easier than trying to explain yet again that he wasn’t likely to need comfort food unless the unthinkable happened, especially since he knew he was supposed to _want_ the unthinkable. As in, desperately want it and come home destroyed when it didn’t happen. Again. “I’ll call you when I get home, okay?”

“Sure.” The microwave beeped and Stiles said good-bye, then got to his feet and trudged into the kitchen to retrieve his food. Chinese always made good leftovers, and this was no exception, even if he did end up eating it standing in the kitchen like some kind of sad single Omega from a weepy Lifetime movie. When he was done, he tossed the containers in the trash, then went to shower and get dressed. He hated Bonding nights with a fiery passion that went down to the depths of his soul, but he wasn’t about to embarrass his dad by showing up in his regular clothes.

One carefully chaste shower (and a promise to his dick to make up for the lack of sweet soapy orgasms) later, Stiles got dressed in the suit his dad had sent over earlier that week. Most Omegas his age didn’t get the usual new clothes anymore, but his dad said that it was part of Bonding night and until Stiles found an Alpha, he was going to make sure nobody had any reason to say anything bad about his son. Sometimes Stiles thought he was going to end up the only sixty year old Omega in the room, still wearing his dad’s new suits while he waited the night out.

Once he was dressed, he took a minute to admire himself before he had to put the fucking collar on. The Omega Living blogs could call it an ‘Omega circlet’ all they wanted, but Stiles knew it for what it was: a fucking collar, complete with tags, like he was a dog. And just like a dog, he was going to spend a good portion of his night sitting around while prospective owners inspected him to see if they wanted to take him home with them. He reached back in his closet and felt around for the box he knew was there, scowling down at it once he found it and pulled it out. “I really hate you, you know,” he told the leather band before he buckled it in place around his throat. He checked the mirror one last time to make sure the stupid yellow tags were visible, then went to get his keys. At least his dad had given up insisting that he drop Stiles off. It was as close as he’d probably ever get to admitting that he didn’t think Stiles would ever get an offer, but it meant not having to take the shuttle with the gloomy Omegas who hadn’t been chosen, so Stiles was all for it.

Luckily, he didn’t live too far from the Marriott - all the Omega developments were within three miles of it, something Stiles was sure had been done on purpose - so he had plenty of time to park and go inside before the first Alphas got there. His usual table in the back was already set up for him and he took a seat, already counting down until he could be done with it for another year. One by one, the Omegas around him settled into their seats as well, and on the dot of eight, the doors were opened and the Alphas walked in.

Stiles took a deep breath, then immediately wished he hadn’t when his senses were assaulted by the reek of Alpha musk, strong and bitter enough to make him want to puke. He knew his biology was supposed to find it irresistible, and God knows he’d seen enough of his fellow Omegas go completely ooey gooey all over it at one Bonding after another, but he just couldn’t stand it. And yeah, he was a defective Omega, but that wasn’t anything he hadn’t already known for years. The only difference was that now that he was on his seventh Bonding, everyone else knew it, too.

The Alphas fanned out and started to make the rounds of the room, occasionally stopping to talk to an Omega here or there, browsing through the booths to see if they could find the one they wanted to make an offer for. Most of them walked by Stiles with little more than a cursory nod - after six Bondings, he was pretty sure he was covered in Alpha class, or wherever it was they went to learn how to act at bullshit occasions like this. Of course, it was pretty much simple common sense that kept most of them away, seeing as his booth stood out by virtue of its complete lack of decoration. The other Omegas around him had spent the better part of a week transforming their booths into little mini-homes, complete with examples of their prowess at the various domestic arts displayed through cakes, cookies, meatloaves, clothes, and sparkling clean surroundings all laid out for the Alphas to see, along with the mandatory skill book.

Stiles’ booth, on the other hand, was almost completely decoration-free. He still hung the banner his dad had given him for his third Bonding, the one with his name embroidered on it, but that was more because his mom had made it than because he wanted the Alphas to find him. And yeah, he had the skill book, but his was a lot thinner than the others since he was pretty sure most Alphas wouldn’t care about his deductive reasoning skills or the fact that he could stay up for hours chasing down the most obscure facts for a paper that was due at 8am the next day. No, they were looking for happy little homemakers like Isaac, whose whole freaking _life_ , not to mention apartment, was like something straight out of Martha Stewart Living. He made his own bread twice a week and Stiles would be the first to say that his butterscotch brownies were worth walking a hundred miles for. (Thankfully, he’d never had to put that one to test, since Isaac was only four doors down, which made getting his fix a lot easier.) That was what Alphas wanted, not a skinny, sarcastic Omega who was more interested in police procedures than dinner plans.

Once he was reasonably sure that all the Alphas had made their first round, Stiles pulled out his book and started reading. It was a compromise he’d reached with Mrs Hiller after his third Bonding - he could read once all the Alphas had had a chance to look at him, and in return, he would stay in his back booth and not try to engage any Alphas in discussions about the best way to remove blood or other bodily fluids from shirts/pants/sheets/under claws, etc. He still thought she really shouldn’t get to hold that against him, since he’d merely been trying to get information, but apparently grilling the only Alpha ever to have more than two seconds’ interest in him on something that might actually be useful someday hadn’t been a good idea. Not that it mattered, but at least he had something to do instead of sitting on his stool and pretending he wanted a claim for yet another year.

“ _Take Two Steps_ ,” a voice drawled. “Interesting choice.”

“Yeah, well, contrary to popular belief, Omegas have brains, too,” Stiles shot back, looking up from his book to see an Alpha standing in front of him. He was older than most of the other Alphas, probably in his late thirties or early forties, but there was something else about him that set him apart, something that made Stiles’ skin crawl. Whoever this guy was, he was decidedly _not_ somebody Stiles wanted to get to know better.

Unfortunately for Stiles, the Alpha didn’t seem to have a problem with sarcasm. “Oh, I’m well aware of that,” he said, and to Stiles’ horror, he picked up his skill book and opened it. “Not a fan of the domestic arts, I see.”

“More like a fan of the Yankees.” The Alpha chuckled and Stiles cringed inwardly. Jesus, what was wrong with him?!? Why couldn’t he just say ‘No, Sir’ or something like that? But no, he had to run his mouth and the Alpha in front of him had to be weird enough to think it was interesting, instead of off-putting.

To make matters worse, the Alpha seemed to actually be _reading_ his skill book instead of just leafing through it and walking away. “The sheriff’s son,” he said, more to himself than to Stiles. “Well, that _does_ explain quite a bit.”

Stiles wanted to crawl into a hole. He knew there had been rumors about him for a long time, but hearing it put like that made him wonder just how many there were and what they were. Then he immediately decided that, on second thought, he was better off not knowing. It was hard enough some days to be the odd one out. Didn’t these assholes realize that he’d be a lot happier if he _could_ be like the other Omegas, content to cook and clean and raise babies, instead of like himself? He glared at the Alpha in lieu of pointing all that out, but when the Alpha didn’t seem to notice, he went back to his book and tried to ignore the Alpha in front of him.

It wasn’t easy. For one thing, he stank, which probably meant he was considered some kind of amazing catch, since Stiles had noticed that the more the other Omegas drooled over someone, the more they reeked to him. Except for Scott, but that was because Scott was the other half of him, to the point that sometimes Stiles hadn’t been completely sure he was able to tell their scents apart. He sometimes thought his dad and Scott’s mom had been expecting Scott to claim _him_ instead of Allison, but Stiles could have told them that was a complete waste of time. Even if Scott hadn’t been absolutely head over heels for Allison the second he’d laid eyes (and nose) on her, Stiles was his brother, and anything aside from friendly cuddles or wrestling matches was out, for both of them. They’d talked about it one time, when they were twelve, and he’d allowed Scott to try scenting him, but he’d barely gotten his nose up against Stiles’ neck before he was wrenching away and running for the bathroom.

That incident had actually been what led Stiles to start thinking about the whole science of attraction. He hadn’t told anybody about it, but it was one of the reasons he’d picked UC Davis, because they had a kickass science lab that might allow him to pursue the research he wanted to do if he could get a grant approved. Of course, first he had to get his thesis published (assuming he ever got around to actually finishing it, that was), but once he did, he was sure he could use it to jump start bigger things. He just needed a chance, and if that meant sitting through three more Bondings before he could be declared officially unclaimed, then so be it.

Stiles shook himself out of his daydream of accepting the Nobel Prize for his achievements in the field of Omega Science to find that Creepy Alpha was gone. Good riddance, he thought, and went back to his book. It wasn’t until Mrs Hiller came by with a bottle of water and he heard her surprised, “Oh!” and saw her blinding smile that he thought to look down at the sheet in front of him.

He stared blankly down at the scrawled words on the top line, the ones that had just completely shredded his entire universe: _Peter Hale, $25 million_.


	2. Chapter 2

“Well, I think that’s it,” Jeff declared. “You ready to go, Stiles?”

Stiles looked around the room, then nodded. “Yeah, I think so.” Everything he owned in his small apartment had been stripped from the walls and shelves, leaving the place as bare and impersonal as a hotel room. Over the last week, the last two years of his life had been sorted through and packed up in boxes to be either given to the local Omega shelter or go with him to his new home. With his Alpha.

He’d spent the time since the Bonding in a hazy, almost trancelike state, thankfully as numb now as he’d been when he first saw the name and the amount. There had been no turning it down, he’d known that without even thinking about it. Principles were all very well and good, but that much money was enough to beat up anyone’s principles. So he’d signed on the dotted line and stood quietly while Mrs Hiller cooed over him, exchanged his gold tags for red, and insisted on taking pictures of him holding his sheet to be used for promotional posters and brochures. It wasn’t until he’d driven himself home and gotten back in his apartment that he’d realized just what he’d done and the panic had threatened to set in. It had been almost a relief when Peter had called the next morning with his address and a whole list of shit that had to be done so Stiles could be ready to go by Saturday.

But now the list was done, every item checked off except one. Stiles took a shaky breath and reached for his keys, working his apartment key off the ring so he could leave it for the next Omega. “Hey,” his father said, walking up behind him to lay a hand on his shoulder. “You can still back out of this, you know.”

Yeah, he could. But it would cost a fortune in legal fees to have it undone, a fortune he didn’t have. Not to mention the embarrassment he knew it would bring for everyone who knew him. And he was pretty sure Mrs Hiller would put a contract out on his life and he’d end up in the bottom of the ocean as a warning to any other Omega that threatened to pull back from a Bonding. “I’m okay,” he said for what felt like the ten-thousandth time. He looked over his shoulder and gave his dad his best smile. “I’m a millionaire. What’s not to be thrilled about?”

His dad studied him for a minute, then squeezed his shoulder. “You know you can always come home,” he said, and Stiles felt like begging to do just that. Instead, he set the key down on the bookshelf and turned around to hug his dad. And if he clung to him a little longer than normal, nobody but him and his dad would ever know it.

Finally, he stepped back and nodded. “Okay, let’s do this.” Putting it off wouldn’t do anything but tick his Alpha off - and how weird was it that he _had_ a fucking Alpha? - and that could only end badly for him. Peter might be a creepazoid of the first order, but he’d offered and Stiles had accepted, so now he had to earn that fuckload of money. And at least Peter had been honest with his offer - money for sex, instead of making it all about a home and family and shit.

They went downstairs, where all his friends were gathered around Stiles’ Jeep and his dad’s cruiser. Allison was the first to come over and give him a hug. “You’re going to call us as soon as you settle in, right?”

“Of course.” Stiles smiled at her. “You don’t think I’d pass up a chance to get a housewarming lasagna, do you?”

She laughed and shook her head, then stepped aside so Lydia could move in for her hug. “Stiles, _please_ try not aggravate your Alpha right away,” she said. “I know he’s aware that you’re not the usual Omega, but go easy on him at first, all right?”

He laughed and hugged her tightly. “I’ll try, but you know me. It’s pretty much a losing battle.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she muttered.

Kira was next, and while Stiles was too scared of Lydia and too protective of Allison’s feelings to say so, she really did give the best hugs. Outside of Scott and his dad, that was. “Make sure he takes care of you,” she murmured. “And if he doesn’t, let me know and I’ll kick his ass for you.”

“Thanks,” was all he could get out past his rapidly tightening throat. Thankfully, Erica and Boyd weren’t the hugging type, so once Kira moved back, he just had to endure Isaac’s enthusiastic congratulatory hug before it was Scott’s turn.

“Give him a chance,” was Scott’s whispered advice. Stiles choked up, unable to ask about his deepest fears, but he didn’t actually have to give voice to them, because the next words out of Scott’s mouth were, “And if he really is a creepazoid or jackass, you can always come live with Allison and me.” There was a reason Scott was his brother.

It wasn’t until he stepped back that he realized exactly why his friends were acting this way, like he was heading off to certain death: as far as their friendships were concerned, he might be. His Alpha could forbid him to talk to anyone that wasn’t family for any reason at all. That was something Stiles hadn’t even considered. No wonder Lydia was worried about him behaving himself! “I’ll be good,” Stiles assured them all. “Like, best behavior ever good. Promise.”

For a second, nobody said anything. And then his dad said, “I’ll believe _that_ when I see it,” and everyone laughed at Stiles’ deliberately over the top affronted reaction.

He waited until he was in the Jeep with Scott in the front seat beside him before he said, “I mean it, you know. I’m not gonna give him a reason to take you guys away from me.”

Scott didn’t point out that his Alpha wouldn’t need a reason if that’s what he wanted. Instead, he just said, “Dude, he paid _25 million_  for you.” Then he paused and frowned. “That... really didn’t sound good.”

“Well, at least we know I’m not cheap,” Stiles tried to joke, although from the look on Scott’s face, it fell flat.

“Seriously, though. If he was really a perv or something, he wouldn’t have made you that kind of offer.” And okay, maybe Scott had a point there. But he hadn’t been there with the guy to see just how creepy the vibe he gave off was. “Look, you’ve got some kind of escape clause written into the offer, don’t you?”

Stiles tightened his hands on the steering wheel, keeping his attention deliberately focused on the road. When he didn’t answer, Scott pressed, “Don’t you? Stiles?!?”

He sighed, knowing he couldn’t get away with lying to Scott anymore than he could his dad. “It’s not like it’s unheard of. And for that kind of money...” He licked his lips and swallowed. “We both know this was pretty much my one chance, man.”

“Yeah, but you always said you didn’t care about that!” Scott was getting agitated now, and Stiles was starting to regret saying anything. “I mean, you never made an effort and you always bitched about the Bonding and -”

“Because I hate the damn thing! And it’s not like I was ever gonna make some traditional Alpha a good match cause that whole happy homemaker shit is just... not me, you know?” He glanced over at Scott. “But there were times when I thought about it.”

“Being claimed?”

He shook his head. “Finding someone. Having something like you and Allison.” Except that he was an Omega, so people expected him to act a certain way, as though biology were the be all and end all and nobody should ever want anything different. “That would’ve been nice.”

He could feel Scott’s eyes on him and knew without looking that his friend had that sympathetic look, the one that said clearer than words that what he had with Allison was beyond special and even more rare than people thought it was.That was why Stiles hadn’t told him about the occasional twinges that sometimes crept up on him - he didn’t want his best friend’s pity. Or the confirmation that he wasn’t likely to ever have that kind of bond with someone, let alone Creepy Alpha from the Bonding. “Look, Stiles... maybe it won’t be like it is for me and Allison, but you guys could still -”

“What, form a lasting bond that’ll turn the whole ‘him buying me’ thing into some kind of fairy tale?” Stiles shook his head. “Somehow I don’t exactly see that happening. I’ll be happy enough if he doesn’t try to turn me into some kind of traditional Omega, you know, popping out babies and chained to the stove.”

“You’ll both starve if he does,” Scott pointed out. “You can’t make anything besides pizza bagels and sugar cookies.”

Stiles laughed. “Yeah, and I burn those half the time.” More like three-quarters, but Scott was nice enough not to point that out. It was one of the reasons they were best friends. “I guess if he’s a dick I can always just make him dinner.”

Both of them laughed, and Stiles changed the subject, asking Scott about work. Scott was always happy to talk about the animals at the clinic, and soon enough, he was telling Stiles all about how a little girl had brought her bunny into the clinic to be treated for a cut on his foot. “She was so freaking cute when she asked if he could have a superhero band-aid! I mean, like, seriously adorable.”

“Sounds like someone’s been bit by the baby bug,” Stiles teased. “You and Allison thinking about having a rug rat anytime soon?”

To his complete lack of surprise, Scott didn’t immediately deny it. “We’ve talked about it,” he admitted. “We were waiting til I got a little more of my student loans paid off, but with me signing on with Deaton and Allison getting that promotion at the archery range, we’re in a pretty good position to do it, so... maybe?”

Stiles grinned as he started up the private driveway - or at least, that’s what he thought it was. “That’s great, dude. And I get to be the godfather, right?”

:”Of course.” Scott leaned forward, straining to get a look at the house. A second later, he let out a low whistle. “Wow, talk about a mansion! From the looks of things, this guy gives new definition to the word loaded.”

“Yeah, I kinda figured that out with the multi-million dollar offer,” Stiles pointed out dryly. “Most guys don’t do shit like that unless they’re... Ho. Ly. Crap.” The house at the end of the drive really was a mansion, as in an honest to God, actual _mansion_. “I’m gonna end up getting lost in there,” he muttered. “They’re gonna find my rotting body in one of those huge-ass corridors.”

Scott snorted. “You will not. Bet you an extra large triple supreme that you’ll know the whole place inside and out in a week.” Stiles opened his mouth to remind Scott that there was absolutely no incentive to learn the layout of the house when it would mean losing a bet when Scott smacked his arm. “And you can’t cheat. You gotta actually try to figure it out.”

He sighed. “Fine. But you better give me some seriously good odds, like five to one or something.”

“Two to one,” Scott conceded. “But only because I know I’ll win.”

“You got it.” Stiles pulled up in front of the palace, put the Jeep in park, then high-fived Scott to seal the deal. With that done, he turned off the ignition and pulled the keys out, then climbed out and looked over at Scott before he got out. He headed over to the door, faintly aware of the crunch of tires on gravel as his dad pulled in behind the Jeep, but it was the door that held Stiles’ attention. The huge ass double door that seriously looked like something out of a Disney movie, complete with actual knockers, big brass hoops that were dangling from - shit, were those _wolves_?!?

Stiles leaned in to take a closer look, only to jerk back in shock when the door suddenly swung open. Unfortunately, he moved a bit too fast in the wrong direction, which left him flailing wildly in what turned out to be a futile attempt to keep from landing on his ass. He winced, then cringed when he heard laughter, followed by the amused drawl he remembered from the Bonding. “Nice to see you again, Stiles.”

 _Crap_. Talk about making a hell of a first impression. Or rather, second impression. “Uh, yeah, nice to see you too,” he mumbled, slowly getting to his feet, barely restraining himself from reaching back to rub his ass. “I was just looking at your... yeah. Anyway, here I am.”

“So I see. Although I must say that I don’t remember ordering a two-for-one special...” When Stiles looked confused, his Alpha sighed. “You didn’t mention that you’d be bringing friends.”

“It’s just my dad. And Scott. They, uh, they came to help me move in.” That was still hard to believe, that he was going to live here now. Not so much _here_ as anywhere that wasn’t either his apartment or his dad’s house.

“Did they? Well, that was nice of them.” His Alpha looked him over, raising an eyebrow that seemed to suggest that Stiles wasn’t dressed properly, although he wasn’t sure just what was supposed to constitute proper dress for his first night in a stranger’s house. And a stranger’s bed. Oh, God. Stiles swallowed hard and tried to remind himself to breathe. “Unfortunately, I didn’t plan for guests when I ordered dinner, so I’m afraid you may have to say your good-byes a bit early.”

Say his good-byes?!? No, he wasn’t ready for that! Stiles could feel his chest tightening just at that thought, but he tried to keep breathing, tried to hold the panic attack off despite the rush of blood in his ears. Something of his struggle must have shown on his face, because his Alpha gave him a strange look. “It’s just for tonight,” he pointed out. “Surely you’re not so co-dependent that you can’t have dinner away from your nearest and dearest?”

Just for tonight. Right. Stiles nodded and immediately turned to hug first Scott, then his dad. “I’ll be all right,” he assured them. “I’ll call you guys tomorrow.” Then he remembered that he wasn’t really in a position to make promises and looked over at his Alpha. “I mean, if that’s okay.”

“You’re not some kind of feudal slave, Stiles. Trust me, you’ll have free access to the phone, cable, wifi... anything you need.” That should have made him feel better, but instead he wondered just what he’d have to do to earn it.

He’d promised to at least try to behave, so he bit back the first sarcastic retort he thought of and said, “Thank you,” instead. Then, since he wasn’t sure just what to call him, or even if it mattered, “Sir. Alpha.”

He laughed again. “You can just call me Peter, Stiles. Although if you really want to use a title, Grand Master and Sovereign always works.” When Stiles just stared at him, he sighed. “Never mind. That was a joke that apparently wasn’t all that funny.” He reached out to put a hand on Stiles’ shoulder and Stiles just barely managed not to flinch away from him. “Why don’t you go on inside the house? I’ll talk to your dad about what to do with your stuff.”

That sounded ominous, but Stiles had bigger, creepier things to think about, so he just nodded and walked into the house after one last look at his family. The hallway was big and probably could’ve been pretty welcoming, but something about it made him think of the Haunted Mansion at Disneyland. Stiles looked around, not seeing much more than plain white walls, although he wouldn’t have been surprised to find his Alpha - Peter, he reminded himself - living in some kind of ancient stone castle.

A hand landed on his shoulder and he jumped about three feet before he realized it was just Peter, who’d obviously finished talking to his dad. “Sorry,” Peter said, lips twitching in a manner that made Stiles think he was far from it. “I didn’t mean to startle you. Why don’t you come in the living room and meet everyone?”

“Everyone?” That was a surprise. Peter didn’t exactly come across as a family man.

He nodded as he started to lead the way. “My niece Laura and nephew Derek will be joining us for dinner.”

That didn’t sound too bad. “Great. Do they come over here often?” Maybe Stiles was here just to keep the kiddies entertained. He could do that easily enough.

“Sometimes more than I’d like,” Peter said wryly. “But that’s all part of having a family, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Stiles felt the back of his neck heat up as he asked the next question, not allowing himself a chance to think better of it. “Do you, uh, want a family? I mean, like, babies and all?”

“There’s an odd question.” Peter stopped and looked over at him, and Stiles had to fight the urge to run straight for Scott’s house. “I had one, once.”

“What happened to them?” Stiles _really_ needed to stop asking questions, but he’d never been very good at doing what he was supposed to. It was one of the reasons his dad had quit letting him hang out at the station, and from the look that crossed Peter’s face, he was going to have to learn to bottle up his curiosity if he wanted to have any chance at a decent life.

He braced himself for a backhand, but all Peter said was, “There was a fire a few years back,” and started walking again. Stiles hurried to follow before he could get lost and end up needing a rescue squad to come find him.

Peter led him into a large living room that looked like something right out of a magazine. Or maybe a TV show, one of those with a practically unlimited budget that could afford huge-ass leather sofas like the one in front of him. The one where two people who were definitely _not_ kids were sitting. If you could call lounging and perching sitting. Somehow Stiles thought that what they were doing fell in a whole other category. “Children, this is Stiles,” Peter announced. “Stiles, this is Laura -” He pointed towards the small, dark-haired woman, who had straightened up from her lounging position to stare openly at Stiles “- and this is Derek.”

Holy crap. Derek was straight out of Stiles’ hottest wet dreams. Tall and muscled, with chiseled features and just the right amount of scruff to burn his skin but feel good doing it. _Nephew_ , Stiles reminded himself, _That’s your Alpha’s nephew_. No lusting after family members, even if they did look like some kind of James Dean fantasy. Stiles gave them both a tentative smile that faded when he heard Laura say, “He isn’t wearing a collar.”

There was clear disapproval in her voice, and Stiles wanted to point out that the fucking dog collar wasn’t required by law anymore, hadn’t been since way before they were both born, but before he could open his mouth and piss his new, apparently very traditional, family off, Peter said, “I thought I would leave that up to his Bonded to decide.”

His Bonded?!? But wasn’t that Peter? That was the whole point of the contract and all the legal shit, to tie Stiles to Peter in exchange for the fuckload of money he’d been given? So who the fuck was he supposed to be bound to, if not Peter? Stiles was glad to see that Peter’s niece and nephew seemed to be just as confused as he was, but it was Derek who straightened up, crossed his arms over his chest and asked, “Why did you bring him here if he’s not Bonded? You know that’s not allowed.”

Peter’s smile looked exactly like a cat that had just cornered a mouse and was toying with it before pounding. “No need to worry, dear nephew. Stiles here has signed all his papers and his presence here is completely legal - for now.”

“What does that mean?” Laura asked, casting a suspicious look at Stiles, like she thought he might be there to steal the family silver.

“Simply that an offer was made and accepted, but not on my own behalf.” Peter walked over to Stiles and put a hand on the back of his neck, and somehow Stiles managed not to either shudder or move away from him. “He’s a gift, one that I trust will be received in the generous spirit in which it is intended.”

He was a fucking gift?!? And what the hell did that mean, about him being received in a generous spirit? It sounded uncomfortably close to a threat, and from the way both Derek and Laura quickly looked down, he suspected he wasn’t the only one to take it that way. “You know, I didn’t sign on to be a gift,” Stiles pointed out, only to have Peter squeeze the back of his neck. And okay, that was _definitely_ a threat, but how the hell was he supposed to stay quiet when he’d just learned that he was some asshat’s Christmas present?!?

“Actually, your contract was quite specific,” Peter told him. “In exchange for your acceptance of the offer, you were handed over to me to do with as I see fit, barring dismemberment, disfiguration, or death.” He paused for a second and this time, Stiles _did_ shudder as those words sank in. “So yes, I can make a gift of you. And I am.”

He gave Stiles a little push forward that sent him stumbling straight into Derek, who at least had the basic human decency to catch him rather than let him knock them both over. Not that he really could’ve knocked Derek over, since the guy was built like a goddamn oak tree, but it was the principle that counted. So at least one member of the family was a nice guy.

That impression lasted all of three seconds, as long as it took for Derek to steady Stiles, glare at his uncle, and say, “I don’t want him.”


End file.
